Finally
by JaneAire
Summary: A small ficlet about somethings finally coming together. R M
1. Chapter 1

Roxton leaned against the large tree that was their home. He was staring. He knew that he shouldn't be but he just couldn't stop himself. He had been watching the jungle from the treehouse railing when he spotted her. He was transfixed. He had always been transfixed. She dazed him with her wit and her beauty. She was his match that he was sure of.

She was washing her blouses in that old wooden tub that they found on their initial days in the Amazon. Veronica had no use for it, so Marguerite adopted it as the washing tub. Oh, Roxton enjoyed laundry days. Marguerites always washed wearing only her camisole and jophers, in order to clean the shirt she was wearing that day as well as the rest of the laundry. And today was no different. There she was in all her stunning glory. Her hair was pinned up in a way that Roxton rarely saw. Her hair wasn't braided like usual, but the curls were pinned loosely.

"Like what you see, John?"

Roxton jolted out of his trance, and found himself very very close to Marguerite who had that look in her eye. The one that meant business. She lowered her eyes to flicker over him, and hummed slightly to herself.

"What if I do, Marguerite? Hmm?"

And for once she had no reply. No witty remark. She just looked back at him. Clear and focused, and a little hesitant.

He breathed in deeply. If he judged this wrong, If he was too eager, If he scared her, He might not get another chance like this one. He had only one thought : _she might be ready. Oh, god. Is she ready? _

He stepped impossibly closer to her. He used his height as an advantage as she was forced to tilt her head up to keep eye contact. Neither said anything.

He moved in closer and without warning kissed her. It was hard and demanding, and his hand wound around her back keeping her with him. She half gasped as he arched her backwards with his passion. She was stunned. She was relieved. She was _oh_ so many feelings. She felt a hand weave into her hair cupping the back of her head. He was rough and gentle.

He almost growled aloud when she finally responded vigorously and set her hands on his chest and neck. She broke the kiss to steal a breath, and his lips trailed her cheek and settled on her neck.

He could have swore she moaned as he sucked at her pulse point. Their lips met again, and Marguerite felt herself pushed against the rough bark of the tree. His hands were daring as they settled on her ass, keeping her pressed against him. Her leg rose of its own accord to wrap around him.

They both moaned at the delicious friction.

His kiss was so passionate it stole her breath away. He had her pinned against the tree, pinned against his solid body. He growled when she abruptly writhed into him. God, He wanted to feel this good forever.

They finally broke to pant out breaths, still pressed together oh so closely. Their foreheads were touching. And Roxton dared to look in her eyes. The normally turbulent silver orbs were dark and peaceful. Neither moved. They listened to the sounds of the jungle around them.

There wasn't a raptor, or a reporter in sight.

Quickly, she pressed her lips against his. Light, and passionate. Like she was savouring it. He could imagine her doing it for the rest of their lives. Casual. Loving. Fantastic.

And then she gave him a look. _Oh. It was that kind of look._ And just like that they collided again. All passion and fury, and the distinct belief that it was finally time. It was finally their time.

_Finally._


	2. Chapter 2

He starred at her and he knew he shouldn't. She was a light sleeper. The lightest he had ever seen. But tonight, yes this night, she seemed just so content. She was asleep. Dead to the world. And Roxton was amazed. He hoped someone was listening as he sent a tiny little thank you to the heavens. There she was, for all the world to see, fast asleep burrowed in the arms of one John Roxton.

God, he was happy. Content. Amazingly thankful as he continued to stare at the naked woman in his bed. His bed. His woman. Finally.

He was sure that even saying half of the thoughts in his head would cause her to either hit him, or run away, or both. He imagined her saying "_Your woman? You should be so lucky"_ or "_Your woman? Surely, you deserve better, Lord John Roxton. _

Just once he wanted her to say yes. To just allow him his protective nature to claim her. As no one else had managed.

As she snuggled closer in her sleep, John received the reply he wanted.

--

Marguerite muttered slightly and arched further into the warm recesses of his body. He swore she moaned slightly at the contact.

He knew she was awake when he heard her soft chuckle.

"_I think I still have my socks on, John'_

_Hmm, nothing but your socks my dear. I could get used to this" _

_So could I"_ whispered Marguerite.

He was sure the small phrase from any other human wouldn't stop his heart like Marguerite could. This was it. She was it. His everything, and his all.

Roxton burrowed his face into her hair and sighed, "_Lets start everyday like this_".

And he held his breath for her answer.

She timidly replied,

"_Okay."_


End file.
